


two steps

by orphan_account



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Dissociation, Eating Disorders, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 02:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12998211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Two steps. One onto the scale, one following suit. His heart was in his throat, as it always was when performing this ritualistic routine.





	1. Chapter 1

Two steps. One onto the scale, one following suit. His heart was in his throat, as it always was when performing this ritualistic routine. It didn’t make him happy, it just made him feel scared; what ifs ran wild. What if it goes up not down? What if my body absorbed dinner before I expelled it from myself? Relief came quickly as the green-neon light flashed up 81lbs. Two steps. One off the scale, one following suit.

He padded quickly back to his room, carpet muffling the sound of his light footsteps. The small, black leather-bound notebook that he kept in a hole in his mattress held each day’s weight etched in small characters. He added that day’s scale reading and tucked it back within the springs of his bed.

He was satisfied, he’d lost a pound since the previous day. The mirror in the concern of the room was where his eyes locked onto, he stood and walked over to it. He was only dressed in a pair of white underwear and smiled as his ribs poked out from under thin skin.

The middle of the night was usually the time he performed this routine, though since his mother had started dating again and his brother was constantly out with his girlfriend, afternoons seemed a much better time. It motivated him to weigh before he might crumble to dinner, it made him want to keep going without.

Three knocks. That was all it took to distract his concentration from his ribcage and hipbones. He scrambled around his room to find clothes that would seem normal.

“Will?” A voice called out from behind the front door, he pulled on his second sock and reached the person who was behind the door.

He twisted the door-knob and found himself face-to-face with Michael Wheeler.

“Will.” Mike breathed out shock in the mid-January air, he hadn’t seen Will around much, he had been getting worried.

He had been skipping school often, too tired and too scared that someone might notice something.

“Mike, come in!” A false voice, a façade.

“Okay…” Mike was cautious. The façade was too obvious, he thought.

“Would you like a drink?” Be polite, be normal, he thought.

He was half way mentally into the room before he realised Mike had a grasp on his wrist and had him held in place.

“Will, what’s going on?” Mike was grasped hard around his wrist, he couldn’t struggle free. He thought about lying again, he couldn’t.

“I-I- No-nothing.” He couldn’t stop himself, his heart pounded, loud to his ears. Black spots clouded his vision.

“Will!” Mike was shaking his shoulders as he felt himself go limp.

Dark. Dark. Dark.

 

Will woke up to the face of Mike staring down at him, his gaze flickered around the room as he checked for danger. There was nothing that could cause him harm, just Mike staring down at him with brown, worried eyes. He was handed an icy glass of water and he drank quickly, his throat felt dry. After drinking as much as he needed, he passed the glass back to Mike- who placed in on the coffee table. Will then noticed that he was wearing Mike’s jumper, knitted with wool in colours of pale red and muted yellow. It’s hanging off him, he smiles even though he shouldn’t.

“What’s going on with you, Will?” Mike finally speaks, he sounds pained and disappointed; a tone of voice Will was familiar with.

“I don’t know.” He admits, softly, almost a whisper.

“Well, if I tell you what I think is going on- you might be able to tell me if I’m wrong or not. How does that sound?” Offered Mike, taking Will’s fragile hands into his own and gently massaged around the joints.

“Okay.” Will breathed out another faint reply.

“I see someone who used to be Will Byers, but got lost, not in the Upside Down, in their head. I see a person who found a way to keep control over themselves, but they’ve never had control before, so they didn’t know how to stop when it got too far. I see someone who needs help, but doesn’t know how to ask for it. How far off am I?” Mike looked into Will’s thin face, his eyes locked with the big, green eyes of the boy; tears were starting to form for both of them.

Will opened and closed his mouth a few times, he was speechless and defenceless. What had been said by Mike, had been more accurate of his feelings than he had ever been ever able to write in a journal entry.

“’X’ marks the spot, Mikey.” Will tried to speak comedically, though he choked on a sob and collapsed into Mike’s arms. All he could taste was tears as they poured from his eyes and made their way down his face and onto Mike’s t-shirt. Mike couldn’t help but cry too, his tears were reserved, though; he just held onto Will, tight.

Mike gulped a little as he felt Will’s body through his own jumper, he could feel each sharp and jutting angle poking into himself; Will had never been much, but there had been a softness about him, the softness was hidden under his shell of self-hatred and control.

He wanted so deeply to make Will happy, it seemed an impossible task. He wanted to see that softness shine through in blushing cheeks, he wanted to put daisies in his hair and he wanted to make sure he was always warm in his own jumpers; just maybe not so severely hanging off him.

“Will?” Mike whispered into the light brown locks of hair, Will had pushed himself into Mike’s chest and had stopping sobbing, just whimpered slightly- Mike also noticed he was shivering.

“Hmm.” Will muttered into Mike.

“Are you tired?” It was an obvious question, he saw the way Will’s eyelids were fluttering and how he was going limp.

“Mm-hmm.” Will hummed again, snuggling closer to Mike.

Mike swore he had never felt so hopelessly in love.

Will looked so sweet and innocent as he slept, occasionally he mumbled incoherent words, but he didn’t sound distressed at all; Mike thought that was good, he knew Will still had nightmares among the other terrible things in his life. Mike wished he could just flip a switch and make everything better, he didn’t know how to help Will through exactly what he was going through (he wasn’t yet sure of the details, but from the bruised knuckle on his left, middle finger, and the general state his body was in, it was quite easy to infer), he would do his absolute best to be there for Will whenever he needed love or support.

Will began to stir from his slumber, a little unpleasantly, Mike gave him some space away from the tight hold in his chest.

“Hey, you’re okay?” Mike seemed to reassure himself more than anything else. Will looked at him, confused for a moment before he relaxed back again; it was the usual way he woke up, never quite with it until he was aware of his surroundings.

“Now, how about we have a little talk about what’s going on?” Mike said, smiling, Will looked up at him with those big, vulnerable eyes and nodded.

“Yes, that would be a good idea.”


	2. Chapter 2

Will stared at the plate with a mixture of fear and guilt, Mike knew he wasn’t going to take it, so placed it on the coffee table.

“Will, come on, you need to eat.” Mike took a seat next to him and wrapped an arm around him. Will made no indication that he might reply or eat what was on the plate before him, Mike sighed. “Will…”

The boy dropped his head into his hands, knees bouncing up and down; anxiety radiated from his body, Mike could nearly taste it. It really hurt to watch Will like this, almost reminiscent of the struggle he had against his bindings whilst possessed.

“I’m sorry.” Will whispered so softly, almost quiet enough that Mike missed it- though he did, and it broke his heart.

“No, no, no- Will, please don’t apologise, you have nothing to be sorry for- you’re trying, I can see that so damn clearly!” Mike near-launched himself at Will, holding him a tight as he could without hurting him. Will’s breaths were quick and irregular, Mike pulled out of the hug carefully and grabbed a glass of water from the table.

Will’s panic attacks, he’d dealt with many of them since 1983, they were usually triggered by the dark, forests, flickering lights, fire, growling noises, storms and now- a simple piece of toast.

“Hey, you’re okay, if you’re not ready yet- that’s totally fine, just have a drink, okay?” Mike reassured as he passed the glass into shaking hands. Will took three sips of the clear liquid and gave it back to Mike, their hands brushed together, and Will’s were freezing. “I’m going to get you something warmer to wear, okay?”

Will nodded and curled in on himself, the lack of heat from Mike left him even colder.

Mike found his way down the familiar, wooden panelled hallway; leading to Will’s room. The museum of memories, in the form of drawings and Jonathan’s photographs, was almost like a second home for Mike, he always felt so welcome and happy when he was at the Byers’ house; especially in his best friend’s bedroom. He quickly made his way to the closet and pulled out a blanket from the bottom and an extra jumper- just in case.

He didn’t intend to spend long in the room, Will being in quite a bad shape and all- though on his way out he noticed a black, leather journal poking out from the mattress. Mike of all people, knew how much it sucked to have people snoop around in private spaces, but it just really bothered him; he _had_ to know what the contents of the little book was.

Mike vowed to only look at one page.

Perhaps one page was one too many.

At first all he saw was numbers, no real significance there, probably Will just writing down some maths question that had been bothering him- something like that. But then Mike noticed more on the page, there was a sort of code next to each number, and a date too. Sometimes there would be multiple numbers from the same day, he counted four and the most for one day; then it hit him.

The realisation was struck by one particular ‘entry’ that read:

_11/12/84-96-WRONG. BAD. GROSS._

Mike slammed the journal shut and shoved it back where he had found it, his hands were shaking and his eye’s burned with oncoming tears.

“Shit.” He muttered under his breath, swiftly wiping away tears and exiting the room.

 

Will was still huddled in a ball when Mike returned, although now there was one tiny bite taken from the food on the plate and Will looked disappointed in himself. Mike didn’t bring attention to it, just plonked back down onto the couch and spread the blanket over Will and himself.

He felt proud and hoped that by the time that the clock next reached the hour, maybe another bite or two might have been taken.

“How are you feeling?” Mike asked as Will rested a head on his shoulder and scooted a little closer to him.

“Dunno, better maybe.” Will mumbled.

Mike swore he saw the smallest smile tug on Will’s lips.


End file.
